


let the hours pass

by silverinerivers



Category: No. 6 (Anime & Manga), No. 6 - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff, Introspection, Light Angst, M/M, Melancholy, Missing Scene, Scars, Scents & Smells, Sharing Clothes, Sharing a Bed, ToT: Battle of the Bands, Treat Fic, Trick Or Treat Prompts Challenge, Trick or Treat 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:34:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27055747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverinerivers/pseuds/silverinerivers
Summary: It is a bizarre feeling overall, because he’s not used to being the one who follows. He fights the bitter taste in his throat from what No. 6 has torn from him, from them both really, and stays quiet for the first time on the matter because Shion says he’s going to rebuild it all.And Nezumi has bet everything, his very being, on the idea that Shion will do it better than anyone else ever could, that Shion is the only person who can.Shion holds onto his hand the entire time, and to Nezumi, it feels like something’s burned it.Nezumi hopes it leaves a scar behind in the shape of Shion’s palm lines.(Or: Nezumi tries to leave No. 6 right away in the aftermath of everything. Shion gets him to stay a little longer.)
Relationships: Nezumi/Shion (No. 6)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 41
Collections: Trick or Treat Exchange 2020





	let the hours pass

**Author's Note:**

> Title and fic inspired by the song Stripped by Depeche Mode, as a part of the Trick or Treat Exchange 2020's Battle of the Bands challenge.

Shion has a way about him.

Nezumi isn’t sure of exactly what. The more he tries to pin it down, the more the other boy surprises him. Shion is a great deal of things, headstrong, kind-hearted, idiotic. Nezumi used to think Shion was an idealistic fool, incapable of hurting others and carrying his own weight in this cruel world, until Shion too had shocked him and proved that he had what it took.

Unfortunately, Nezumi learned that he didn’t like that all, the fact that Shion crossed that line in such a dissociated state that it almost killed him. 

However, it did not mean that Nezumi didn’t like Shion. Because no matter how much Shion managed to shake his own foundations, Nezumi still liked him.

He thinks, with a tingling horror, there may not be anything Shion could do that would make Nezumi _not_ like him.

He learns that Shion gets some of that impossible kindness from his mother Karan, whose affectionate hug towards him on sight is still a shock he has yet to recover from. She thanks him for taking care of her son with tears in her eyes, as if Nezumi wasn’t the reason Shion became involved in this mess in the first place. Then, she insists on fixing them a warm dinner, whipping up a huge spread of all of Shion’s favourite foods. Some of it, Nezumi fondly remembers from back when he was twelve, and he tries his damn hardest not to immediately scarf it all down.

It feels like it’s been the longest day of his life, hours stretched on for eons. It’s a strange combination of feelings for Nezumi, being stuffed yet exhausted. They get ushered up to Shion’s room, where of course there is only one bed. However, neither of them complain. They both forego any semblance of a nighttime routine, skipping cleaning up and stripping down in favour of just collapsing straight down onto the bed. The sheets can be cleaned tomorrow.

Some time during the night, Nezumi blinks awake, still somnolent. But even in his half-awake state, he’s alert enough to drink in the sight of Shion’s face, having oriented his body towards the other boy. His white bangs are swept off to one side by gravity, the red patch of the snake a faint glow framed by moonlight, his features soft, peaceful.

Nezumi stares for a little too long before turning onto his back, falling asleep to the memory of the sight instead of the actual thing.

The next morning is difficult to get up for two reasons. One, the adrenaline of the previous day has washed away, leaving only cranky bones and sore muscles that seemingly materialized overnight. And two, Nezumi still wakes up to Shion’s face, who somehow stayed abnormally still, the same position as in the middle of the night. It is as tempting as it was a few hours ago, to just focus on Shion and nothing else outside this bed, this room. Nezumi feels jittery at his core from the pull of it, how tempting it is, if it could be so easy.

But he gets up after allowing himself five minutes of weakness, because it isn’t so easy.

He’s in No. 6.

He doesn’t belong here, but Shion does.

Nezumi gathers himself and is almost instantly smothered by the kindness that is Shion’s mother. She offers him both bread and coffee, the former which he rejects because he’s still digesting the food from last night. He does take her up on the latter though, sipping the hot coffee while watching Karan move all over to cater a swarm of customers. It still surprises him, the warmth and pure consideration she radiates, a rare breed.

There must be something about this family. Perhaps it’s embedded in the walls.

When Shion wakes up and finds him, Nezumi has to tell his heart to calm the fuck down because of how joyous and relieved Shion looked when their eyes met. He must have expected Nezumi to have left right away.

Which to be honest, he did consider it.

Shion asks him to stay for a while, and Nezumi’s first instinct is to bolt.

But staying one day doesn’t hurt. Shion still looks like a mess, and while Nezumi isn’t terribly injured, he could also use some recovery time.

But Nezumi doesn’t like extending promises right off the bat. He doesn’t work well with commitments unless it’s a contract sealed with cash.

So he only offhanded agrees to stay one day, and Shion beams at him, grateful and a sight to cherish.

They do a lot that one day. Shion gets himself cleaned up, giving up on his shirt, the bloodstains a bitter memory. He then eagerly offers to help out at the shop to Karan’s noisy protests, and after an hour, they get shooed out anyway.

“What now?” Nezumi teases. 

“Oh, do you mind if I show you around?” Shion asks, his voice gentler than usual.

Nezumi shrugs. This is still No. 6, but it’s a bit more bearable now. He’s always been able to handle being here when he had to be. This is no exception.

Shion ends up taking Nezumi on a short tour of the parts of his life from No. 6 that now, albeit trashed, still mean something to him. They walk past where Shion grew up, where they first met, Shion’s schools, Safu’s place, his old workplace, the park where it all started.

Nezumi lets Shion drag him along, his feet wobbly along the streets of the city he’s spent his entire life despising. He knows most of what Shion is yammering about already, but he listens anyway. It is a bizarre feeling overall, because he’s not used to being the one who follows. He fights the bitter taste in his throat from what No. 6 has torn from him, from them both really, and stays quiet for the first time on the matter because Shion says he’s going to rebuild it all.

And Nezumi has bet everything, his very being, on the idea that Shion will do it better than anyone else ever could, that Shion is the only person who can.

Shion holds onto his hand the entire time, and to Nezumi, it feels like something’s burned it.

Nezumi hopes it leaves a scar behind in the shape of Shion’s palm lines.

He plans to leave the next day, because yeah, even for Shion, he doesn’t know how much he can stand being here, living _here._

Shion convinces him to stay one more so they can wash his clothes too and let them dry fully. Nezumi sighs and figures, what the hell. That’s a good reason.

“First, a bath? I think you need one too.” Shion suggests that night.

Nezumi winks at him.

“Sure, but you’re not getting in with me.”

There was an easy opening and Nezumi took it. Shion doesn’t blush as easily as he used to, but it’s still terribly satisfying to see it each time.

That red turns ever so slightly deeper when Nezumi strips down without a care in front of Shion, tossing his top onto the ground.

“Hey, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before at this point.” Nezumi smirks.

Shion’s cheeks are still red, but he still moves a step closer towards his backside.

He pauses right above Nezumi’s scar – and Nezumi feels a shiver run right through it.

“Can I?”

When Nezumi doesn’t respond, Shion pushes on.

“Touch it, I mean.”

Shion is on the precipice of it, shattering a barrier that Nezumi will patch right back up when he leaves. Even if they're only poorly bolted together makeshift planks thrown over a sinkhole, Nezumi can live with that.

So he says yes.

Like he said, Shion’s already seen it.

However, he has never touched it.

No one has except Nezumi himself. It isn’t hideous or bumpy or any of that, the carve of his burn mark already having receded back down, level. One can trace the outline maybe, note the various colours smudged on his skin.

Nezumi is unsure what to expect, how it’s going to feel when Shion touches it.

Shion does not touch it; he hugs Nezumi instead.

A back hug is what they’re called, he notes.

The press of Shion against his bare back is comforting, solid. Nezumi finds himself almost wishing that Shion _was_ going to take a bath with him, so that he could feel this skin against skin. He shuts that thought down equally fast, because one, he thinks Shion would say yes, and two, if he did, Nezumi would never go.

Thus, Nezumi savors it, how intimate the touch is, bone-deep, and lets it remain where it is.

It is true that they’re both marred by different scars of their past, their makers. But in this moment, none of that matters. They’re only human, only men.

“That’s not what touching it means.” Nezumi exhales after quite some time. He may not have had many hugs in the past, definitely none like this, but he’s pretty sure they aren’t supposed to last this long. Shion’s arms are wrapped around his lower front side now, hanging dangerously close around his hip.

“I never said it had to be with my hand.” Shion mumbles into his shoulder blades, and fuck, it is adorable.

Nezumi ends up soaking himself in the bath for a hell of a long time, loosening his muscles, letting the aches get washed away. It may be the most revitalized he’s ever felt, laying naked in that bathtub. He feels as safe as he feels exposed, as ironic as that is.

That night, he sleeps in Shion’s nightshirt and a pair of old shorts. It’s so old that it smells mostly of dust from Shion’s abandoned closet. It’s somewhat off-putting, because okay, he is probably the weird one here for finding the idea of Shion’s clothes without the smell of Shion on them incongruous.

Nezumi still remembers that first night when he slept in Shion’s clothes as a child, the sweep of the storm roaring outside.

It isn’t too different here, now. Nezumi curls up closer into himself, pulls the blanket closer over his chin, his feet sticking out. Shion’s clothes aren’t a great fit for him, and it’s a bit chilly tonight. He resists the urge to clutch onto Shion instead, a body he knows is both warm and smells like what his shirt should.

It’s a lingering weakness, just one more anchor he needs to be rid of before he goes.

It’s getting harder and harder.

Shion gets him to stay a whole week. It’s a good thing Nezumi only offhandedly agreed to stay that first day, because just _imagine_ how long Shion would rope him in for otherwise if he said anything longer. It’s a dangerous power that Shion wields over Nezumi, just by virtue of being Shion.

With the excuse of keeping his clothes clean for his impending departure, Nezumi wears only Shion's clothes that week, even if it’s a bit too short and not at all his style. Shion laughs at how childish he looks in them and Nezumi takes full advantage back, stretching high and flashing more skin that he normally could.

Nezumi wonders if Shion too will hold off on washing them, in favour of keeping what may linger.

Nezumi departs with a grin, right on schedule. Well, the new one anyway. He doesn’t belong in No. 6, at least not this one. There’s a lot to do before he can think about returning, even if it is for Shion.

Shion doesn’t mask his sadness at Nezumi’s departure, a tear in his eye. So Nezumi masks it for him.

That expression on Shion’s face is worth it when he pulls back, and okay, maybe Shion didn’t get any better at kissing, but there’ll be plenty of time for that later.

Shion better still be a crappy kisser when he returns.

 _Just for me._ Nezumi thinks.

_Wait for me._

This time, it’s a promise.

**Author's Note:**

> Two lyric snippets in particular that inspired this fic to take form: 
> 
> i. Take my hand, come back to the land. Let's get away for just one day.  
> ii. Let me see you stripped down to the bone.
> 
> You can catch me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/silverinerivers) & read my other No. 6 fics [here!](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverinerivers/works?fandom_id=479394)


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